Owned
by BuyMeASuit
Summary: What happens when Mike Ross is thrown into human trafficking and modern day slavery, and then bought by the most powerful lawyer in New York City? Au. Slave!Mike - Master!Harvey. Rated T for drugs, kidnapping, etc.
1. Chapter 1

_Harvey Specter was a man of many interests. He liked baseball, basketball, girls, movies, winning. Heck, he was the best god-damn lawyer in the city. But not one of his friends at the law firm Pearson Hardman knew of his other, more unique... Interest._

* * *

Michael Ross had been walking home from some shitty bar Trevor had dragged him to. Sure, they may have had some fun telling chicks that they were Olympic Swimmers or soon-to-be astronauts, but he had gotten too drunk. He was going to have a very bad hangover in the morning, and he had to go to work as a bike messenger. He groaned softly at the simple thought of the pounding headache he would be waking up with. He turned into an alley that he knew would save him about a block of walking back to his apartment without really thinking. Walking in dark alleyways alone was of course a bad idea, but his alcohol ridden brain didn't think anything of it. He passed two guys halfway down the alley and started having second thoughts. He couldn't make out their faces, but they were both wearing what looked to be expensive suits.

Suddenly Mike was having second thoughts. He picked up his pace, but he could hear their footsteps behind him. _Oh, shit!_ He started running at a breakneck speed, but he was disoriented from all of the shots he had taken at the bar. He could hear the men behind him still, and it felt like a miracle when he erupted from the alleyway's dark jaws. He didn't even dare a glance behind him as he rocketed towards his shared apartment with Trevor. When he reached the door, he looked behind him, but no one was there. Still panting from adrenaline and fear, he found his key and went in, locking the door behind him.

When Trevor came home fifteen minutes later, Mike has just gotten off the phone with the police.

"Who the hell were you talking to?" He slurred, apparently having trouble forming coherent speech.

"The cops," Mike responded, and after glancing at his roommate asked, "How much more did you drink when I left?"

The confused look on Trevor's face was apparent, and he seemed to get five times more sober in a matter of seconds. "Why were you talking to the cops?"

Mike told him the story, but Trevor shrugged it off, replying with, "Guys try to come people all the time in alleys. They won't catch them. Don't fuss about it, Mike." And with that he went into his room and passed out on his own bed, leaving Mike alone to think. It was already 3 o'clock in morning though, so he only stayed up for five minutes before going to sleep himself.

* * *

 _"Are you sure that's where he lives?" Asked a short bearded man, glancing over the address written on the form one more time._

 _"Yes, sir." Responded a younger and obviously more fit man. "We chased him directly into that apartment building last night, and checked up on all of the residents that lived there. He has a roommate called Trevor Evans. Apartment number 2B."_

 _"Good, good..." The shorter man trailed off, flipping to the next page on the form, which held a picture of a handsome young man with brown hair and bright blue eyes. "He should bring in a profit..."_

* * *

Mike had been right. The headache he woke up with when his alarm clock went off was unbearable. He took an ibuprofen with a cup of coffee and ate a banana on his way out the door. Luckily Trevor was still sleeping so he didn't have a chance to tempt him with pot before work. He had made that mistake a few to many times. When he walked outside the bright New York summer sun made his head give another violent throb of pain and he squinted his eyes against it. He did not notice the man in a black suit casually leaning against his building, staring at him with a newspaper hanging forgotten in his hand. He also did not notice that as he rode away on his bike, the same man was taking pictures of him with his cellphone.

The day was long and hot for the young bike messenger, and the hangover was still looming over him. By lunch he was praying for the sweet embrace of death, but somehow he managed to pedal through it. All he could think about was getting home and smoking the world's smallest burrito. Finally 6 o'clock came around, and he biked home as fast as his tired legs could manage. When he opened the door to his shared apartment Trevor had already started smoking.

"Whaddup dick-face," Trevor greeted in his usual charming manor, while at the same time offering Mike a joint.

"Nothing shit-head," Mike responded, gladly taking the pot out of his friend's hand and putting it in his own mouth. The joking banter continued on for the rest of the night, as Mike was off the next day. After he and Trevor raided the fridge there was nothing left that was edible, so he would have to go shopping the next day. They both crashed onto their individual beds around 4 o'clock in the morning, content with themselves. Before he drifted into sleep Mike had a fleeting thought about the men who had chased him down the alley, but it disappeared as quickly as it came when he sank into the unconsciousness of sleep.

* * *

 _Harvey Specter walked into Pearson Hardman with an air of confidence, as always. A charming smile played on his lips as he exchanged pleasantries with Jessica Pearson. She, of course, had no idea of the events that were to take place that very night in the hidden corners of the Big Apple. But Harvey did._

* * *

When Mike awoke the sun had already climbed halfway into the sky and was shining brightly into his cluttered room. He covered his head with a pillow and turned away from the window to block it out, but after a few minutes he was already too awake to get back to sleep. Yawning widely and stretching, he put on a clean shirt and a pair of relatively new blue jeans. Yawning once more, he walked out of his room and into the kitchen. Trevor had left a scribbled note on the counter saying that he had gone out. Where to Mike didn't really care. He half-heartily hoped it was to buy more drugs, they were running low.

He brewed a cup of coffee and drank it with a blank mind, starring into space. The events that had happened the night before last suddenly jumped into his mind. He pondered for a few moments on why the men had been wearing expensive suits. If they had that kind of money why were they trying to jump people? _Maybe they stole them from someone,_ he thought. It made sense, but what didn't make sense was why Mike could not stop himself from thinking about the experience. It really wasn't an oddity to be jumped in New York City. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he finished his coffee and went out the door, leaving his bike behind. He felt like walking the streets, enjoying the warmth of the day. It was much easier if you weren't hungover.

He bought a hamburger and fries from a McDonald's. It had been too long since he had eaten the simple commodity that was fast food. Well, a week to be precise. He sat down at a table and watched people walk by on the street as he ate gladly. A simple peace filled him completely. He felt as if everything was perfect. Good fast food can do that to a man. That is, until he saw Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome walk past the glass of the McDonald's and make direct eye contact with him. Paralyzed for a brief second, Mike recognized the man as one of the guys who had chased him down in the alley. He abandoned his food on the table and ran out of the restaurant as quickly as he could. If he was being followed, he had to ditch whoever it was that was after him.

He started to run in the direction he saw the man come from, shoving people out of the way without apologizing. Everywhere there were people wearing classy black suits, and Mike felt even more frightened. He didn't know if any of them could be chasing him, or just simple businessmen. Stopping for a few seconds to regain his wits, he closed his eyes and took a few breaths. He looked all around him, but did not see the man that he had thought was after him. Suddenly he realized how stupid he was being. It was just a coincidence that one of his almost-muggers had walked by the window at McDonald's. He thought about calling the police again to tell them of the sighting, but decided against it.

Shaking his head at his own paranoia, Mike began to walk again. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but he really needed to clear his head of these men in suits. He was starting to scare himself. Even though he had only gotten through 2/3 of his hamburger he was full, so he really didn't want anything to eat. He didn't have enough money to go shopping, either. "Hmm, what to do..." he said softly to himself as he moved along through the crowds of people.

* * *

 _"Sir, we have a visual on the target," said a deep voice from one end of a phone call._

 _"Good, good. Take him in as soon as the opportunity arises," replied a much more distant voice. He was obviously deep in thought about something. Troubled, even._

 _"Yes, sir," responded the first voice, and he hung up the cellphone, nodding to the other man that was with him._

* * *

Mike had been aimlessly walking around a mall, daydreaming about things that were way to expensive for him to afford. At 7 o'clock in the evening he was ready to go home and have a smoke before going to bed. He had already eaten dinner in the food court. He was at the very far side of the mall where less frequented shops were. He pushed the door open and stepped out of a small bookstore he had been wandering through. The parking lot for the store was empty except for a black windowless van. He started to walk when he heard a door slam. He looked behind him and none other than the two men who had tried to mug him were stepping out of the van.

He froze for half a second. It was too long of a pause, though, as they had started running towards him. He dashed away, but before he could even scream to any passers-byes he was tackled to the ground, and something metal was hitting him in the back of the head. He blacked out immediately. The two men carried him and put him in the back of the van. Not a single soul noticed the entire ordeal. Funny how in such a big city no one seems to be watching.

* * *

 **Heyo everyone. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Favorites and reviews are always highly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

When Mike regained consciousness he was immediately aware of the bounds he had been placed in. A black blindfold was covering his eyes and a gag was wrapped so tightly around his head it hurt. There was a brief moment where he made a small noise as if he was about to call out through the gag, but did not have the energy to do so after just blacking out. A rope wound tightly around his wrists, binding his hands behind his back. His feet were similarly tied together. He had no idea what was going on around him, but he was lying on a cold metal surface, like that of a Vet who placed dogs on it to perform surgery. He sat still for a few more moments, breathing heavily. The reality of the situation was having trouble sinking in.

It seemed so unreal. Things like this only happened in movies. He shuddered at the thought of what he had been kidnapped for. _Sex? Slavery? ...Murder?_ While he considered himself to be tough, Mike was having difficulties keeping it together. With a jolt he realized that he had regained enough strength to try and scream through the gag, but it was proving more difficult than expected. His throat seemed to be paralyzed with fear, and he could not force anything to come out of it. Instead he scooted towards his right, attempting to figure out his surroundings but going slow enough so that if he ran into anything it wouldn't hurt. In no time he was pressed against vertical metal rods.

 _A cage,_ he thought, and broke. Salty drops began to fill the blindfold impairing his vision. Soon enough he had gotten it considerably wet, making it itchy and uncomfortable on his face. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He thought of his Grammy and of Trevor, and wondered if either one had realized something was wrong. Hell, he didn't even know how much time had passed. Suddenly, at the thought of the only family he had, Mike had a bout of courage. He screamed violently into he gag, and once he started he could not stop. He yelled until his voice was hoarse, but no one came to his rescue. Indeed, it seemed as if he was completely alone, wherever he was. When his voice became completely unusable he stopped trying to make any noise. His mind went completely numb, and everything that happened after that moment, Mike could not recall. In those few hours he had simply become an empty shell, balancing in some kind of limbo.

* * *

At midnight exactly, the cage that (unbeknownst to him) Mike was being held in was rolled into another, much larger, room. It had a higher ceiling than normal, and was dimly lit. At least 20 other cages of the same shape and size of Mike's were positioned in rows with gaps between each cage. Inside of each metal enclosure was a human being, tied up exactly the same as Mike was. On the bars of each cage was a laminated form with information about the captive. Name, age, family, how long they had been prisoner, as well as pictures of them doing everyday things, obviously taken secretly. The only noises in the room was quiet muttering and a few muffled screams and moans.

It was very crowded in the room, even though it was so large. Over 100 men, and some women, were milling about between the cages. Some talked together in hushed tones, occasionally pointing to a certain cage containing someone they thought interesting, and some walked through the rows alone and without a single word. Every one of people walking free in that room was wearing something obviously expensive. Classy black suits, beautiful dresses, expensive watches, golden jewelry. Each had some sign or another of wealth that they were showing off to everyone else.

There was one man in particular among the crowd. Harvey Specter was striding amongst the rows of cages alone, his brow slightly furrowed. He had not seen any stock that caught his eye, and he had already walked by and read the information posted on the cage of every male in the room. He was only interested in males, of course. He decided to stride through one more time. He had been promised that it was a good turn-out that night, and that they would have several chattel that he would be quite interested in, but that had not happened. Going through the rows once more, he ignored those were were screaming or otherwise making any noise into their gags, as well as the ones who were making a large struggle. He wanted someone easy to handle, someone that fit in with apartment life well.

After finishing going through the rows he was about to leave. He had been promised something excellent, but his suppliers had fallen short. He would have to wait until the next sale before purchasing what he had been desperately wanting for so long. Harvey had already begun to make his way towards the exist which was being guarded by two men with guns, when he noticed a new cage being wheeled into the room. His eyebrows dropped even more, but not in disappointment. Curiosity. He moved through the sea of people, careful not to bump into anyone, towards the newest enclosure. He stopped short when he came upon it.

Now, in the ring of human trafficking that Mr. Specter had become apart of, whoever had the most money got to buy whoever they wanted. If two buyers wanted the same piece of stock, it was a simple matter of whoever was willing to pay the most. When someone was ready to buy they approached a guard and told them their offer, as well as the number assigned to the particular piece of stock they were attempting to purchase. It was announced by the Manager, or so they called him, to the room, and if no one else was interested the good was given to the buyer and the money handed over. If several people wanted the same stock then they would have to approach the Manager and in a small group would decide who was going to pay the most. Harvey was sure, as he gazed at the motionless body lying on its side, cheek pressed against the hard metal flooring of the cage, that if it came to it, he would pay whatever necessary to take Michael James Ross home with him.

Mike was a very handsome young man, easily the most attractive piece available, and Harvey knew very well that handsome boys drew the attention of others. Even then, glancing around him, Harvey could see that other potential buyers were already taking a closer look at his Mike. Yes, _his_ Mike. Immediately he started to make his way towards the nearest guard, trying not to draw attention to himself while he did so. He would make his offer on number 3986.

"Excuse me," he said in a rather blunt manner. He was the one paying these people, after all, "I would like to offer $40,000 on number 3986."

The guard looked momentarily shocked. Usually young virgin girls went for that much, and even then it was the high end ones with good bodies. He called it in on his earpiece, though, and the Manager was upon them within 30 seconds. He raised an eyebrow and gave a playful questioning look to Harvey, obviously interested in why he would pay so much for male stock that no one else had offered on yet. Harvey's face stayed indifferent. Turning away, the Manager announced to the room with a raised voice, "Number 3986 going for $40,000. Please approach if you have a higher offer." After these words there was a considerable amount of mumbling from those who had wanted to buy Mike as well as some neck craning from those who had not yet seen him, wondering what could be worth $40,000. No other offers were made. Harvey had won.

* * *

While Mike had gone numb for a few hours, conscious but not really there, he came back to himself when he felt whatever he was being held in slammed against a wall, rather violently, and then a voice exclaim, "Careful! I am paying more than what your life is worth for that." It was Harvey. He was following along behind the cage as it was wheeled down an empty hallway towards the exit, where Harvey's car was parked in a little hidden parking lot.

Suddenly Mike heard a creaking sound directly in front of him, like a door being opened, and he sat bolt upright. He wanted to scream through the gag again, but his voice felt hoarse and dry. Plus, whoever was around him now obviously knew what they were doing. No one was going to help if he cried out. He might even get punished for it. Quite suddenly he felt a firm pair of hands grab his ankles and slide him towards the cage doors. Like a wild animal, as soon as he felt the grasp he began to kick his legs around as best he could manage with them bound together. He started screaming into the gag as well, even though he had previously decided not to. He was wriggling around like a fish by the time he was slung over the shoulder of one of the guards, still screaming his throat off even though it pained him greatly to do so. He heard a muttered ' _Shit'_ come from the same man who had said _'Careful.'_ The next moment Mike felt a prick in the crook of his arm and everything went black.

The guard carrying the now unconscious body followed Harvey out to his car. It was black with tinted windows. No one could see into them if they tried. After dumping Mike into the back seat on Harvey's orders, the guard returned inside the warehouse without looking back. Immediately Harvey opened the door to the front seat and pulled out a bottle of some cheap beer he had bought beforehand, knowing well that something of this sort may happen. He used the bottle-opener on his keys to pop off the lid and then proceeded to slop it all over his new object. Harvey had been told Mike would be out for at least 8 hours, so he took off the ropes around his legs and arms, removing the gag and the blindfold soon after. It was the first time Harvey was able to see him clearly in person, and he felt a greedy possessiveness over the younger man immediately.

After starring at him for a few more seconds he stowed the ropes, blindfold, and gag in his trunk and got into the driver's seat of the car. He pulled out of the parking lot without his headlights on, trying to keep the chances of anyone noticing his car to a minimum. It was 3 o'clock in the morning already. He drove at a steady pace to his apartment building, glancing back in the mirror at Mike every few hundred feet. He looked peaceful sleeping. If only the smell of beer weren't present in the car, everything would be perfect, but it had to be there or else the chances of Harvey making a valid excuse for hauling an unconscious body through his apartment lobby were slim.

Once they did each the apartment, though, everything went smoothly. The woman at the front desk watched in confusion when Harvey first entered, dragging Mike by the armpits through the door, but once she smelled the alcohol covering him she realized that he had passed out at some bar, and his friend was simply helping him by taking him in for the night. At least, that was what she thought. She offered to help bring him upstairs, but Harvey declined kindly. Once in the elevator, Harvey put Mike down on the floor in order to press the button. When the elevator started to move he picked him up once more, but this time he was cradling him with one hand under his legs and the other supporting him from behind his shoulders.

They walked that way down the hall, Mike's head lolling backwards. It was a struggle to get his key in the lock, but he managed to do so and Harvey kicked the door closed behind them once they entered the apartment. He walked straight into his own bedroom and dropped Mike down onto the bed, looking over his body with a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips. _I own Mike Ross._ Harvey gently placed his hand on Mike's cheek, feeling his warmth. After a few moments of this he went over to the large, modified dog crate that resided in the corner of his bedroom. It was 54 inches tall, 37 wide, and 45 long. It was extremely heavy duty, and the dog lock had been replaced with a padlock. Mike was not going to get out. Inside of his was a white pillow and soft padding on the ground, as well as a black fuzzy blanket. He opened the crate with a key and went back over to the bed, grabbing Mike once more. He set him down gently in the crate. He had to fold up his knees level to his stomach in order to fit, but that was fine with Harvey. He took extra care to make sure Mike's head was on the pillow and that he was fully covered with the blanket before locking the crate once more and changing into sleeping clothes himself. He turned out the light and fell asleep on his own comfortable bed. _I own Mike Ross._

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews are highly appreciated and will give me motivation to get chapters out faster! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before we start, I wan't to point out I made tiny changes to the last chapter, nothing noticeable. I have also brought the rating down to a T.**

* * *

Mike opened his blue eyes slowly. The first thing that he noticed was that he was no longer wearing a blindfold. The next thing he immediately noticed was the cloth stuffed in his mouth in addition to the tight gag wrapped around his head, keeping the cloth in place. His jaw felt sore from being held open with little movement and the sides of his lips were caked in hardened blood from the gag. His mouth was also beyond dry, and he wanted something to drink desperately. It was 11 o'clock, but he was not aware of that fact.

* * *

 _Harvey had woken up at 6:30 am to take a shower and get ready for work, even though he had only gotten a little over 3 hours of sleep. After showering, he had placed bounds on Mike's hands and feet once again, and stuffed a cloth in his mouth to keep him from making any audible noises to alert the neighbors. He had also taken his shoes off to make him more comfortable, and had neglected to use a blindfold. It wasn't really necessary. After that he had left for work, getting a ride from Ray._

* * *

Mike, ignoring the burning in his throat and dryness in his mouth, finally began to take in his surroundings. He was in a dog crate, he knew that much. It was cramped, and his knee joints were aching, unable to stretch out. The room he was starring into was nice. It obviously belonged to someone who did not struggle with money. The queen sized bed had white sheets and a dark grey comforter. There were framed pictures of city skylines all over the walls. The room had dark hardwood flooring that complimented the matching desk and dresser set.

After inspecting where he was being held Mike sat up, with some difficulty, in the crate. In the process he noticed that he had tossed off a black fuzzy blanket. Immediately he felt sick with himself. A terrible feeling in his stomach blossomed, and he wanted to curl up in a ball and die, but all he could do was lean backwards on the crate's metal wall and stare at the ceiling, his breathing heavy and throat tight. Tears trickled down his face a few moments later, but he didn't care. He cried for almost 20 minutes in the same position before he was able to take a hold of himself. Salt streaks trailed down his face from his eyes.

* * *

By 2 o'clock, Mike had made over 30 attempts to escape the crate. Most of these consisted of him putting his back against one side of it and pushing the other with his feet, which he had noticed no longer had shoes, and trying to break it open. It did not work. The holding cell was extraordinarily strong.

He became paranoid by everything. Every small sound made him jump. He always thought that he could hear to sound of a door opening, or footsteps getting closer to him. Having to wait in such a cramped space with no sense of time was getting to his head. The tightness he felt in his stomach grew at every car horn from a busy street in the distance. The more time he spent alone, the more the tension of meeting whoever had done this to him built to the point where he felt like he was going to burst.

The worst part of being in the cage was the thirst, and his inability to stretch his legs. The cloth that filled every corner of his mouth sucked up every bit of moisture inside of it, and by 3 o'clock he felt as if he was going to die from the lack of fluids alone. He had not had anything to drink since the day before, and after a time, even in the climate controlled room he was residing in, he began to feel slightly light headed. His legs were not helping the situation either. All he wanted to do was stretch them out fully to pop his knee joints, but it was impossible in the tight crate. He tried putting his back against one corner and reaching both legs, bound together, diagonally for the other, but there simply was not enough room to stretch them fully. It had to be one of the worst feelings in the world.

Mike began to feel tired. His lightheadedness mixed with the overwhelming stress and panic he was feeling made him want to drop down and sleep, escape from the terrors of reality for only a few moments. But every time he came even close he would realize that he was on a soft cushion or fuzzy blanket set out by his captor and felt the now all to familiar feeling of self-revulsion. It made him want to throw up thinking of the puffy white pillow simply waiting for his head to lie down upon it...

* * *

 _Harvey Specter had been having a wonderful day. He arrived at the office smiling, even though he had not gotten much sleep. Donna had been waiting with a strong coffee, and he was eternally grateful, as it hastened to wake him up even more. She of course had noticed his peppiness, but wrote it off that he had probably had a fling with some woman that morning. He closed a merger without any snags, which of course was one in a blue moon. And that was all before 2 o'clock. The rest of the day he spent having meetings with a few of his clients, as well as passing off a pro-bono to some faceless and unimportant associate. He did file work sitting in the comfort of his office, but his mind was never truly there. It was wondering back to his condo, where Mike Ross was waiting for him in a dog crate..._

 _"Donna? I'm going home early. I have something to take care of."  
_

 _Donna of course flashed him a knowing look that he returned with a light smile. She thought he meant that he was going to have another round with some woman. He walked out of his office with a small smile plastered on his face, and called Ray, who arrived at 5 o'clock on the spot._

 _"Step on it, will you?"_

* * *

Mike had been in an unrestful sleep with his cheek pressed flat against the padding at the bottom of the crate, the pillow and blanket ignored completely when he heard the front door to Harvey's apartment open. His eyes snapped open, and he felt paralyzed with fear. Nothing in his body seemed to be working as he heard footsteps approach the door. He couldn't blink. He couldn't even breathe.

He heard the rattling of keys as they clicked the bedroom door's lock. His eyes were as wide a a deer in the headlights of an approaching truck. The tension building within him was squeezing his insides forcibly, constricting him so tightly that not even his mind could work. The door opened.

Mike's eyes shot up from where he was staring directly across the floor to his captor's face as soon as he stepped within the room. They made eye contact, baby blue to dark brown. Mike could not brake it. He was held by some sort of spell, the man was keeping him trapped in his gaze. Utter terror filled every inch of Mike as the man approached him, and it showed plainly on his face. He made a small, desperate sound that was muffled by the cloth in his mouth and he attempted to scoot backwards towards the back side of the cage, as far away as he could get from the monster approaching him.

Harvey watched with utter interest as Mike backed away from him. He had been curious on how his captive would react, quite honestly. Fear was expected. He could see the salt trails running down his face, obviously from previous crying. New tears were beginning to form in his eyes as well, a few of them leaking out down his temple. He did not make any attempt to blink them away. Finally, Harvey broke eye contact and moved even closer to the crate, causing Mike to shut his eyes tightly against whatever was coming at him.

"My name is Harvey," the older man said delicately while unlocking the crate.

Mike flinched at the sound of his voice, and more tears started pouring out of his eyes, even though they were sealed shut so tightly that he was hurting himself. He made another small noise of protest when he heard the door to the crate swing open. When he felt two hands reach behind him and lightly touch the nape of his neck he jerked back so violently he smashed his head on the back of the crate, causing himself to see stars floating around in the darkness of his eyelids.

"Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself," the voice came one again, still delicate, but just the slightest bit more demanding. Mike could not hold in the sob that escaped his throat, causing it to burn fiercely. Harvey's brow furrowed. He did not want him to hurt himself. "I'm just trying to take off your gag, hold still."

Mike did as he was told in fear of what would happen if he didn't. He was completely still while the hands untied the gag wrapped around his head. Immediate relief followed the moments the knot was loosened. His eyelids slacked the slightest bit before shutting as tightly as they had been. He could feel his dry lips cracking as the gag was pulled off. He had to lift his head slightly as he was still lying on his side, his cheek pressed against the crate padding. The cloth was still in his mouth.

"I'm going to get you some water," Harvey stated and stood up, leaving Mike on his own. He did not think it was a dangerous idea. He couldn't scream with the cloth still in his mouth, and even if he could it wouldn't be very loudly, considering how hoarse he was. The prospect of him getting up and trying to run away was nonexistent, since his legs were bound tightly together. Plus, he was scared senseless and seemed to be incapable of moving.

Harvey returned to the room with a cold water bottle in his hand. It was one of the many he had stored in his refrigerator. He found Mike lying in exactly the same position as he had been left in.

Mike heard his captor approaching once more and his entire body tensed up. He had never been so scared in his life.

"I am going to take out the cloth now, but you can't scream. If you scream I will have to inject you with something again and I don't want to have to do that."

Mike still refused to open his eyes, but nodded once in a jerky sort of movement. He began to tremble slightly with fear. When he felt the cloth being pulled out of his dehydrated mouth his blood ran completely south. When the fabric was fully removed it felt odd to be able to close his jaw once again.

"Sit up so you can drink your water." Harvey's voice had lost the slightly demanding tone it had gained when Mike hurt himself and returned to being delicate and kind. It made Mike feel sick, the same way the fuzzy blanket and fluffy white pillow did. Disgusted with himself for being held against his will by another human being. He did as he was told, struggling slightly to position himself upright in the crate. He winced away from the small touch of offered help on his shoulder by Harvey, like his fingers were poisonous. Finally he was in a sitting position, his legs folded up to his chest and his arms bound behind his back. He felt completely defenseless.

"Please open your eyes," Harvey said with a slight hint of pleading. He was confident Mike would come to terms with his situation eventually, and accept it, but they had to start somewhere and the least he could do was open his eyes.

Mike really didn't want to open his eyes, though. He felt safer with them shut, like he could block out what was really happening. He was kidnapped. Whoever this man- Harvey- was, he owned him. Mike felt himself sway ominously like he was going to pass out as the full reality of the situation crashed down upon him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and tried to shrug it off, but it was set firmly in place. Breathing heavily, he slowly forced himself to open his eyes.

What he saw was Harvey Specter in an expensive black suit with one of his arms stretched out touching his shoulder and the other holding a water bottle. Mike did not make direct eye contact with him, but instead tried to shrug his hand off of his shoulder once more. When he stole a glance at Harvey he saw that he had a very firm look in his eyes that plainly said _'If I want my hand on your shoulder, it will be on your shoulder.'_ Mike turned his head to the side so he did not have to look into the older man's face, and his trembling became fiercer. The warm hand on his shoulder was setting him over the edge once again, and salty tears began to slip down his face.

Harvey removed his hand from Mike's shoulder and used his thumb to brush away one of the tears on his cheek. He jerked back badly once again, hitting his head on the back of the crate and shutting his eyes tightly.

"Open your eyes, Michael." Harvey was starting to get tired of the nonsense for the moment, and his voice abandoned the delicate composition it had before. Now his voice was deep, commanding. Mike complied immediately, opening his eyes once again. Harvey brushed another tear off of his face and he cold tell it took everything the young man had not to flinch like a wild animal, but he could also tell that he was driving his head into the wall of the crate.

Harvey unscrewed the cap to the water bottle and took care not to spill any while bringing it to Mike's lips. Glancing towards to water in front of him, the desire to drink became the strongest thing he felt, stronger than fear and stronger than the self-loathing he felt having a water bottle held for him like he was a child. So he drank the water out of Harvey's hands, even though the man once again placed a hand on his shoulder. He welcomed the cool liquid down his burning, hoarse throat. It was the most amazing water he had ever had. He finished the water bottle wanting more, but didn't dare to ask. Instead he simply turned his head sideways and refused to look at Harvey, whose hand did not leave his shoulder for several more minutes.

When Harvey did remove his hand, it was only 45 minutes past 5 o'clock. Dinner time. He looked at Mike, trembling with his head turned to the side in the crate, tears still sliding down his face. He knew it had to be hard for the kid, leaving his friends and family to be owned by someone, but he would settle in. Besides, what family did he even have besides his grandmother? No, everything would turn out fine.

Harvey stood up and backed a few steps away from the crate, generating a quick glance from Mike's watery, blue eyes. "Come out of there," he said gently.

Mike did as he was told, though with some difficulty. He had to scooch out on his bum in order to get onto the dark hardwood flooring. He sat there awkwardly, obviously scared and not knowing what to do.

"Stand up."

Mike did. The audible pop that came from both of his knees when he straightened them caused the smallest of sighs from Mike, and Harvey knew that not being able to stretch his legs for so long had obviously been a problem. Mike once again glanced at Harvey, but this time Harvey was able to catch his eyes. They held each other's gaze for several seconds, Mike visibly trembling and the other a face of slight curiosity.

Harvey's brow furrowed slightly. "Turn around."


	4. Chapter 4

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Mike's body went rigid. His blue eyes searched Harvey's face for any sign of emotion that would reveal his intentions, but the other man's face was blank. Mike made a small sound that seemed like it may have been the beginning of a word but it died in his throat. He did not have the courage to stand up to the man standing in front of him. He was stronger, tougher, older. He had obviously seen things that Mike, who spent most of his adult life getting high, had not.

Harvey was betraying no emotion purposely. He wanted to frighten Mike at that very moment. It was similar to a child throwing pop-its near a dog's paws. He did not intend to hurt, only to tease and laugh at the reaction. Mike was still standing there, trembling with fear apparent in his eyes.

"Turn around," Harvey repeated in the same tone.

Mike made another tiny, almost unnoticeable noise before he began to slowly and awkwardly turn around as best as he could with his feet bound together. All he could think was, _'This is it. Rape, murder. Right now.'_ More tears were coming out of his eyes, and he didn't even make the smallest effort to try and stop them.

He felt a warm hand in the middle of his back and started forward, throwing himself slightly off balance before regaining his center of gravity. He was about to start begging not to be harmed when he felt the pressure of the hand on his back removed and the ties on his hands being released. It confused him for a moment, and even though they were untied they lingered behind his back for a few extra seconds before bringing them to his front and rubbing his aching wrists. After a moment he froze, suddenly being hit with reality. Harvey was still behind him, about to do who-knows-what.

Mike would have liked the say he uttered the word 'please' at that moment, but when he tried it came out sounding like a jumble of barley audible noise. Harvey tilted his head slightly and exhaled air through his nose to make a sound that meant, _'What the hell?_ ' Mike heard it but it did not register as anything important in his mind. He was too busy standing stock-still, wondering what was about to transpire.

Suddenly he felt two hands on his shoulders and they wheeled him around violently. Due to the fact that his legs were tied together and he was not expecting it, he immediately fell. Halfway to the ground he was caught under the armpits by Harvey. They made eye contact for a full second, Mike's eyes full of fear and confusion and Harvey's filled with what could only be described as gentle humor. Suddenly the younger man broke the gaze and began to struggle for his life. He shook his body and pushed Harvey's arms off of him with his own now unbound hands, and fell the remainder of the way to the dark hardwood floor with a loud thud. Panting, Mike stopped. The small battle had given him confidence, though he had scarcely accomplished anything. He stared up at Harvey with rebellion and determination in his eyes, as well as a growing sense of hatred for the man.

"Mike," Harvey said in a voice that one would use to coax a child into giving his friend's toy back. The look in his captive's eyes was surprising. He had not thought Mike would gain any confidence in himself, but obviously the small struggle had brought it out. He hoped that it wouldn't end up being a problem, as he didn't want to harm Mike in any way, even though he knew he had already done so slightly by putting the gag on so tight. There was still dry blood caked on the corners of his mouth.

Mike did not respond to Harvey. Instead he simply stared at the older man with as much ferocity as he could muster, but of course it wan't effective. Harvey had a nonchalant expression and it would not break. They looked into each other's eyes for at least 5 minutes, and neither of their expressions changed until Mike finally gave up. He turned his head to the side so his cheek was flat against the floor and glared daggers at the legs to the bed he was now staring at.

Harvey, satisfied that he had won the battle, looked down at Mike with his hands in his pockets. "I untied you so I didn't have to hand feed you like a child, you should be grateful. And what did I say about hurting yourself?" His tone was hard and slightly scolding. He wanted Mike to understand that he didn't want to completely baby him, and that he also would not tolerate him hurting himself.

Mike was still, his jaw set firmly. _Does he really expect me to thank him?_ He had changed in that moment, going from a scared kid to a fighting and kicking rebel, but it was slowly draining away. Being stared down by Harvey and forced to look away had lowered the confidence that he had gained until it was almost nonexistent once more. Suddenly his mind went back to what Harvey had said. _'So I didn't have to hand feed you like a child.'_ He became aware of the hunger in his stomach. He had not eaten since the day before, but had forgotten about it due to his thirst and the fact that he was distracted by his situation. Suddenly he was craving pizza, or fast food, or anything to put in his stomach, as well as something more to drink as the one water bottle had not fully quenched his thirst.

Harvey looked over Mike once with his chocolate brown eyes before he knelt down near his feet and began to untie the leg binds. Mike flinched slightly when Harvey touched him but was unmoving other than that. Of course with his hands unbound Mike could have untied the ropes himself, but Harvey felt more power when he did it personally.

"Now go back in your crate," Harvey ordered, raising his eyebrows slightly as he did so.

Mike's stomach did a revolting flip. The all to familiar feeling of being disgusted with himself returned like a bullet. The words 'your crate' had especially left their mark. He lay still on the ground for a few more moments before standing up and walking over to the black wired crate without looking at Harvey and then ducking into it, sitting down cross legged parallel with the door. Harvey came over and closed it, putting on the pad lock and then walking out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him.

Mike sat in the crate for around 20 minutes. He couldn't hear any noises coming from outside of the bedroom and his imagination went wild, scarring him into oblivion. The chance that he may have been getting torture weapons prepared was definitely the one that stuck out in Mike's mind. He was getting hungrier with every minute that passed, and wondered if Harvey was going to watch him starve to death for entertainment. He shuddered. That had to be one of the worst ways to go. He could imagine waking up everyday with agonizing pain in his stomach, his rib cage slowly becoming more and more prominent...

Harvey walked into the room carrying two plates in his hands and set them down on the dresser that was on the same wall as the door. Mike had tensed as soon as the door was opened but when the smell of the food wafted in his stomach gave another low growl. Harvey once again returned, carrying a glass of brandy and a bottle of water. He set both down on the same dresser before unlocking the crate. Mike watched him out of the corner of his eye from his Indian Style position.

After opening the door Harvey grabbed the plate and handed it to Mike along with the water bottle before closing it once again.

It was pan fried seasoned pink salmon covered in lime juice. The side was asparagus with a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of salty cheese. _Damn_ , Mike though as he picked up the fork and put a piece of the fish in his mouth, _he can cook._

Harvey had sat on the corner of his bed to eat. He hadn't had salmon in quite awhile and had decided it was appropriate to make some. And, turns out, it was amazing, like everything else he cooked, which he usually did every night. It was a simple pleasure, being able to eat good food by yourself, but sharing it with Mike was much better, he decided. Harvey watched as Mike chugged two-thirds of the water bottle at once and took a sip of his own high class brandy.

He watched Mike eat for several more minutes before saying casually, "I'm not gay, you know."

Mike, who had been deliberately staring at his plate so he did not meet Harvey's eyes, froze. He furrowed his eyebrows just the slightest, holding his fork still. _Why would he say that? Is he trying to say he won't rape me?_ Mike shuddered slightly at the thought, though it went unnoticed by the other party.

Harvey watched the amber liquid in his cup swirl around before he downed the rest of it quickly, releasing a small satisfied 'ahh.'

"And?" Mike said with as much malice as he could muster, still staring at his empty plate. It was the first word he had said to Harvey, who raised his eyebrows and smirked in a sort of way that sarcastically meant, ' _Oh, so that's how it is?_ '

" _And_ so you don't have to worry about me raping you. Or," he added with a slight nod of his head to the right, "killing you, for that matter."

Mike finally looked up from his plate to meet Harvey's eyes fiercely. The confidence he was feeling earlier was starting to come back now that his stomach was full of food. "So then what do you want me for? To be your personal slave?"

Harvey chuckled lightly, and it made Mike want to punch him in the face. "No, it's... more like your my dog."

Mike was appalled by this statement, and his stomach churned with self-resentment. _So I'm supposed to be a dog,_ he thought bitterly. He felt very queasy, like he was about to throw up the food he had just eaten. After a few moments of silence Harvey stood up and once again unlocked the crate. He took Mike's empty plate as well as his own and brought them into the kitchen after locking up the crate yet again. He placed them in the sink, deciding he could do dishes later and then walked back into the room.

"I guess you have to shower, now that I think about it," he said, thinking. He went over to his dresser while Mike glared at a wall. Harvey was holding a casual T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants as well as boxers. "They'll be a little big, but that's fine," he said, walking over to the crate and unlocking it for the last time that night, saying as he did so, "There's a toothbrush in the bathroom you can use, and toothpaste."

When Mike came out of the crate grudgingly Harvey guided him with a hand firmly on his shoulder to the guest bathroom, which Mike walked into and slammed the door, locking it behind him. He got an overwhelming feeling to cry, but he knew Harvey was standing right outside the door and did not want to show anymore weakness than he already had. Instead he got undressed and set the clothes he would be changing into on the counter, and washed himself in the shower. He took over an hour, savoring every moment he was allowed to have the simple freedom, though he still felt very uncomfortable. After he had gotten dressed and brushed his teeth he searched all the cabinets in the bathroom for a razor, but he could not find one. He knew he had no chance of overpowering Harvey unless he had some kind of weapon, so he gave up on the thought of trying to fight. Plus, he was tired.

Mike emerged from the bathroom to find Harvey waiting for him in grey sweatpants and a blue T-shirt and was once again guided back to the bedroom with a firm hand on his shoulder. He crawled into the tight, uncomfortable space without a word. When it was locked he laid down facing the wall with his back to Harvey. He covered himself with the fuzzy blanket to block the AC out and make himself more comfortable. He also set his head down on the pillow.

Unknowing to Mike, using the sleeping things he had provided was a victory to Harvey, who then turned out the lights and went to sleep himself.


End file.
